Fight or Flight
by Madeleine Jane
Summary: Patrick Thomas is a dead beat dad. He ran out on his family for no good reason. It's all his fault that his children are so messed up. Or is he really a dead beat dad? What was his real reason?
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: You guys know the drill. I don't own diddly squat--again because I'm a poor college kid. I don't know Ann M. Martin--if I did, my BSC collection would be complete._

_Authors note: Thanks to all who reviewed and left the comments on "Jessi's Black". You really gave my ego a boost! And thanks to all at the BSC boards who inspired me with this storyline--I hope I do your ideas justice. :) Again, all comments are appreciated, all constructive criticism is welcome, and all praises are needed for my already massive ego. :D This story will hopefully be a few chapters long, and I'll write a full length story if this short one goes well. Enjoy!_

_ Rating: T for teen...just to be safe. :)  
_

-----------------------------------------------------

I loved Elizabeth with all my heart. I truly did. From the moment I laid eyes on her, I knew she was going to turn my life upside down. I just never imagined it to be in such an extreme way.

My name is Patrick Thomas, and I abandoned my family.

Before you go calling me a dead beat mother so and sucker, just hear me out. No one else will--not even my own children. So let me tell my story to someone who's neutral. Someone who will listen.

I know that I shouldn't have left. And I regret that decision every day of my life. Every day that I spend without my children. Every day that I wake up alone, and go to sleep feeling worse. Every day when I drive past the school, or ride my bike through the park. Every Father's Day, every birthday...I remember all of my children's birthdays. Charlie's is May 17th. Sam's is January 25th. Kristy's is August 20th. And all of those days are days of mourning for me._ "But what about David Michael, your youngest son?"_, some of you may ask. Well, that's all a part of MY story. David Michael isn't my child, and that's why I abandoned my family.

It was fight or flight. I chose flight.

--------------------------------------------------------

I guess the problems began a couple of years after Charlie was born. Elizabeth and I were young and dumb, and he was pretty much the product of two teenagers pretending that they knew what love was. Don't get me wrong, I loved Elizabeth. And she loved me. But we were just two kids playing house. We didn't know what we were doing.We were always angry at each other. The arguments were always the same._ "Why don't you bring more money home?"_ That was Elizabeth. _"Why don't you get a job?"_ That was me. _"Why don't you stay home with the baby then?"_ Elizabeth again.

I was working at the _Stoneybrook Herald_ in the mail room. Not exactly the glorious job that I imagined, but with a wife and son to support in a tiny apartment, I was going to take what I could get. And besides, I had to start somewhere if I wanted to be a hot shot journalist, right? Unfortunately, my pay checks weren't nearly enough for Elizabeth. But I worked harder to please her, to make our son proud of his papa, and I eventually got a steady spot on the paper. I was thrilled, and so was Elizabeth when the money started to roll in. And we were happy. So happy that we celebrated by having another son. Sam.

With each promotion that I got, we celebrated by having another child. When I was promoted to the head staff writer on the Sports page, Kristy was conceived. My baby. My princess. My pride and joy. The second I held that precious little girl in my arms, I was taken. She had my eyes. She had my nose. She had my face. I didn't know what was going on with me, but I was a man in love with my little girl, and nothing was going to keep me from her.

Everything was going great. We were the perfect family. I had my two boys that I could teach sports to, and I had my little girl who had my heart. I had a wife who loved me for the most part, and I would do anything for her. When Kristy was a few months old, we bought a little cozy house on Bradford Court. And we were cozy. There was a nice couple who lived next door, Richard and Alma Spier. Elizabeth was such great friends with them. We'd invite them over for dinner, they'd invite us over for movies. As Kristy learned how to walk, so did the Spiers' little girl Mary Anne. She was Kristy's age and they were fast pals. Eventually though, Alma got sick. I believe it was cancer that took her, if I remember correctly. Elizabeth and I were pretty upset about it, and when we tried to comfort Richard, he pushed us away. He sent his little girl away. He avoided our calls. He only left his house to go to his office. I guess one could say that he became a bit of a recluse. Elizabeth and I decided that he needed time.

Fast forward a few years. There's little league, lessons, 3 hungry kids to feed. More expenses, same amount of money. So, I started to bury myself into my work. Because Elizabeth was on my back. It was always more money with her, and when she asked, I provided. But then, she started to complain that I wasn't around enough. I tried to stretch myself. I tried so hard to be there for her and the children, and still put in extra hours so that I could get that next big promotion, thus leading to more money for my family.

I just wanted to provide them with everything that they needed.

I'm only one man. I can only do so much.

I guess it's my fault that I found her in bed with Richard Spier.

She tried to explain things to me. She said that he was lonely, because his wife had died. She said that she was lonely, because I was hardly ever around. So they found comfort in each other.

A likely story.

But I loved her. And I tried to forgive her. And when she found out she was pregnant a few months later, I still loved her. And I still forgave her for what she had done, while hoping that the child she was carrying was mine. Deep down in my heart, I knew that it wasn't. But I couldn't help but pray that it was.

While I was hoping and praying, I was drinking and working. Working helped me forget about my problems, drinking helped me REALLY forget. So while I'd write, I'd drink. Write a sentence, take a drink. I'm not saying that I became an alcoholic. I'm saying that drinking helped a whole helluva lot.

9 months later, the baby was born. David Michael Thomas. He was named after both of my grandfathers. I guess Elizabeth wanted to make it up to me. Because we both saw that he looked nothing like me. Charlie had my eyes. Sam had my smile. Kristy had everything else, right down to my personality. But David Michael had nothing. Except for maybe Richard Spier's genes.

I tried to move past the fact that he wasn't MY son. I tried to tell myself that even though he wasn't biologically mine, I would still love him as if he were my own. But that's just not how the world works. Sure, it sounds noble. It sounds like a great thing to do. I thought it would be easy to forget. But it's not.

Elizabeth and I never established the fact that David Michael wasn't mine. It was just sort of unspoken between us. And this unspoken fact left a lot of tension in the family. I knew that the kids could feel it. But we pretended that nothing was wrong. Or at least we tried to. So we got a dog. I don't know how we figured that would fix the problem. But we did. And the problem still lingered above our heads.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Every time I looked at that little baby, I saw Richard Spier. Maybe I'm crazy, but I know what I saw. And it hurt every time. The feeling of betrayal and heartache never failed to show up.So, I avoided the situation. Just like I always have. When a problem arises, I avoid the situation in every possible way. I reconnected with my old friends from college, and rarely went home at night. Sometimes I would go into the office drunk–that is if I even showed up at all.

It wasn't surprising when my boss approached me one day, and gave me a warning. And being the arrogant jerk that I was, I pulled that_ "You can't fire me, I quit" _gag. I went on a drunken rant about going out west and being my own man, packed up my belongings and just walked out. Just like that. All of that hard work and dedication and I just quit my job. It wasn't until I sobered up that I realized what I had done. I realized that Elizabeth was going to kill me.

All of the fights and arguments that Elizabeth and I had ever had came rushing into my mind as I drove around aimlessly that evening. All of the yelling and screaming, the kids crying...it all came rushing back. I pictured the fear in my children's eyes when we fought. I pictured the way that they looked when one of us got angry and left. I couldn't do that to them again. I could do them a favor, and not put them through that. I could just not come home, and they wouldn't have to hear about our problems. 5 miles until Stoneybrook. In the back of my head, all I could do was picture the big fight that was coming. Elizabeth's nagging. Kids crying. I couldn't take it anymore. 2 ½ miles. Exit now. Exit Patrick. Exit. If I passed the exit, I wouldn't have to face the fight. And I've always been a lover, not a fighter. So, I did the only logical thing that I could do. Fight or Flight. I passed my exit and continued west. Flight it was.

"_Yes," _I thought to myself_. "I'm a pioneer. Just like in the wild west days. I'm a regular Indian outlaw. On_ _the run, not a care in the world. I'm my own man." _

My idiot mind set lasted for quite awhile. I'd barely gotten to the next town when I started to second guess myself. I should have turned around then. But I didn't. I just kept going. With each new state, I started to feel more and more regret. More pain. And every time I felt that pain, I remembered the pain waiting for me back home. The pain of knowing that my youngest son wasn't mine. The pain of seeing Richard Spier every morning on my way to work. The pain of having 4 kids, a wife, a house and bills to pay for. The pain of not having a job to pay for any of that. So I kept going. _New Jersey. _I kept going. _Pennsylvania. _Don't turn back now, Patrick. _Ohio. Indiana. Illinois._ By that point, I figured I was screwed anyway, and there was no point in going back now. I got a room at a hotel in the middle of hillbilly town, Illinois, and was on my way. I didn't know where I was going. I was just...going. And eventually, I ended up in California.

I admit that I was an idiot. I knew that I was an idiot the moment I passed that exit. But it was all about my pride, or lack thereof. Regardless of what you may have heard from other sources, I tried to contact my children. I tried to re-establish a life with them and make up for what I did. But my bitch of a wife–excuse my language–made sure that wasn't going to happen. The first time I called, the children were sleeping, and boy did she let me have it. _"How could you quit your job?" "How could you leave me here to raise 4 kids?" "What were you thinking? How are we supposed to get by without any money?"_ Nag, nag, nag. Finally, being the smart charming man that I am, I retorted _"Why don't you get your bastard son's father to help you?"_ Then, of course, she hung up on me. Smooth, Patrick.

Things didn't get any better after that, of course. Every time I called and asked to speak with the children, she wouldn't let me. I asked her, sarcastically of course, if the children knew that their father was missing. Of course they did. Only, their mother made it look like I had completely abandoned them, and never wanted to see them again. Well...I guess that first part was true. For awhile. But not the second part. I had to see my kids. I tried writing letters. They got sent back to me. I tried calling when Elizabeth got her new job(Yes, she actually got a job. Surprised me too.). The number had changed. She was punishing me. She was keeping me from my children, the three people that I'd worked hardest for in my life. The three people that I'd lived for. Every year I sent cards, letters, gifts, and money. And it all came back.. Except for the money. Elizabeth loves money.

That's why it doesn't surprise me that she married a millionaire a few years later. That poor sap. But I guess he doesn't have to hear her constant nagging about bringing more money home. This guy has enough money to use as firewood, apparently. How do I know this? Oh, she was kind enough to write me a letter, bragging about her new found love, and her children's new father. Her children. That's what she called them. Of course she attached their new address to the letter, saying that if I wanted to send money, I was more than welcome to. As if the bitch needed it. She also had the decency to inform me that my children no longer looked to me as a father, but as the jerk that abandoned them and made them miserable. If only they knew the truth.


	3. Chapter 3

I was going to tell them the truth. I really was. I couldn't stand being away from them any longer, and with the coaxing of my new girlfriend Zoe, I actually worked up enough balls to go back to Connecticut. It was summer, and I found their new house(or uh...mansion). I waited for hours for one of my children to come out. The anticipation was killing me. What if they didn't recognize me? That's a silly thought, I know. After all, I was their father. What if they hated me? Of course they would hate me after all the lies that their mother told them. I could only hope that they would hear me out and give me a chance. Finally, after 4 hours, the most beautiful girl in the world walked down the street. I knew it was my baby girl. She had my face. Her hair was in a long pony tail, and she was wearing overalls and a backwards baseball cap. Baseball. My baby loved baseball. Seeing her brought a rush of emotions back, when I said her name, I could hear my voice choke in my throat.

Needless to say, she was surprised to see me. As was her friend, who was with her. I recognized the girl right away, she was the spitting image of Alma Spier. It was like seeing a ghost. How eerie. She introduced herself to me, and I felt a pang in my heart when I said _"Oh sure, Richard Spier's little girl", _and shook her hand. Richard Spier. The man who put the final hole in my marriage. The man who was the reason my kids hated me. And no one knew it but me and Elizabeth.

That summer was the best summer I'd ever had. Kristy gave me the greatest gift ever–hope and trust. Two things that no one had ever given me before, and I let her down. Again. She kept begging me to let the rest of the family know that I was in town. I couldn't do that. I just couldn't. I couldn't face Elizabeth after what she had done to me. I couldn't face her bitch of a mother–who could out nag her any day of the week. I couldn't face her new husband, who thought I was a worthless jerk. Besides, he would probably rub his money and my kids in my face. I couldn't face David Michael, the son who was supposed to be mine. The son that I couldn't look at, because it hurt too badly. I caught a glimpse of him one day when I was picking Kristy up, and I couldn't help but let a tear fall from my eye. _"What's wrong, Dad?"_ she asked me. _"Nothing. I'm just so happy to see you." _I lied.

As happy as I was to see Kristy that summer, it was unfortunate because Sam and Charlie weren't there. They were away at camp. Figures, I would have to pick the worst time in the world to visit and tell them the truth. In the end though, I couldn't tell Kristy the truth. She thought so highly of her mother, and I'd already put her through enough that summer, with asking her to lie about my being in town. I almost let her convince me to let everyone know I was in town. Almost. I checked out of my hotel and got halfway to the mansion, when I started thinking again. I had flashbacks to all of our fights when we were together. I remembered the nagging, I remembered the guilt I felt for leaving. I remembered that I would have to face Elizabeth's mother. And her new husband. I would have to let them know what Elizabeth had done. What a horrible person she was. I would have to face that innocent little boy, who didn't know who his real father was. It would be quite a fight. Fight or flight. I'm a lover, not a fighter. I abandoned my little princess on her birthday.

I instantly regretted what I'd done. Again.

Zoe tried to support me, but she just couldn't understand what I had done. She couldn't understand how I'd backed out, how I could let my children go on believing that I was a horrible person. We saw Kristy again, not long later. It was at a baseball game, of all places. She could barely look me in the eye, and I couldn't blame her. My little girl hated me, I'd blown my second chance with her.

Or so I thought. The next summer, I proposed to Zoe. We decided that we wanted to get married right away, but it just didn't feel right. It didn't feel right with no one close to me there to support me. Zoe suggested that I invite my children. I couldn't do that, could I? I couldn't just call them up and pretend that nothing had happened, like we were old chums. What was I supposed to say? Hey son, I haven't seen you in about 6 or 7 years, but I'm getting married, come be my best man? Yeah, right. Zoe reminded me that this could be my last chance. This could be my only chance to try to repair the damage that had been done.

I came up with a dirty, dirty plan. I could invite the three of them out to California. That way, they'd be on my turf. I'd butter them up, make them feel comfortable around me. Possibly make them like me again. Then I'd tell them the truth. The whole, ugly truth.

Unfortunately, it didn't work that way.

Things started out in my favor. For some reason, Elizabeth allowed them to fly out and see me. Charlie, Sam and Kristy. It was the first time I'd seen my kids together in years. It was surreal. Needless to say, they thought that I was a worthless jerk who'd abandoned them. And they hated me for it. I'd hate me too, if I were in their position. They had no idea about their mother, they had no idea why I hadn't invited their younger brother out. They had no idea about the letters, gifts, attempted phone calls. And Zoe was under strict orders not to tell, even though she was dying to reveal the truth. It was a rocky visit, a lot of bitter feelings were finally brought up. The years and years of resentment were finally exposed. Charlie tore into my like a knife. He asked me how I could abandon them, how I could leave their mother. How I could never write or visit. How could I not invite David Michael? This was it. This was my chance.

"_Charlie, your mother–."_ I started.

"_DON'T YOU DARE BLAME THIS ON MOM!"_ he screamed at me.

I glanced around the room. Zoe was looking at me, nodding her head, coaxing me to tell the truth. Sam and Kristy wore identical expressions on their faces. Curious, but defensive. Defensive of their mother. That's when I realized something. They loved their mother. She had been there for them, even though she'd tried to keep them from me. I was the jerk who ran out on them. She was the saint who raised them, protected them, worked a full-time job with 4 kids. I was just the jerk who ran out on them. I wasn't even "Dad". I was just "Patrick." They had the perfect vision of Elizabeth, and because I loved them, I couldn't ruin that for them. They'd already had lives full of disappointment, and I couldn't mess up the only person who had given them hope. Even if it was a false hope, even if that person was evil and vindictive. That was the best thing that I could do for them, the best decision I could make as their father.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There's my story. It's been a couple of years since my wedding, and while things have gotten better, they'll never be what I want them to be. I can't fix those lost years, and I don't know if the truth will ever come out. Nor, if I want it to.

Elizabeth and I are still the only ones who know about David Michael's true paternity. In fact, Richard Spier doesn't even know, and he probably never will. It's been years, and he still hasn't pieced together the puzzle. Perhaps speculation will come when more people start to see the resemblance, but until then I'm fine with people thinking that he's my son. I've come to terms with the fact that most people think that I'm just a dead beat dad who ran out on his family. I know that I'm not. Elizabeth knows that I'm not.

I believe in karma, and I know that all of Elizabeth's lies will catch up to her. I believe that she will be exposed eventually, that everyone will find out the truth. That's what keeps me going, that's why I'm so okay with it. They'll see that I'm not the dead beat dad that they thought I was for so long, but just a man who's been hurt, a man who was punished by his ex wife for not being able to take the pain. If not, I'm fine knowing that deep down inside, she feels guilt, she feels the fear of being exposed. That's enough for me.

Charlie's birthday is May 17th. Sam's is January 25th. Kristy's is August 20th. David Michael's is April 1st. How ironic. And even though he's not my son, and it's too painful to remember, I do anyway. Because that's the day my life came down to one question, one option. Fight or flight?


End file.
